Apple-sauced Prostate

I deserve some hot Jollof rice with a generous array of assorted meat for finding an easier way into my macho African brother’s heart. I feel a bit elated to have broken a bit of this jinx given the apathy and bottleneck associated with raising discussions that tear down their already bloated ego, talkless of encroachment into their behinds.

A typical Nigerian man is proud for no just cause. One cannot pinpoint exact reasons for such headiness other than a rising bravado in denying new ways to live. This stubbornness of ours seemed to be inbuilt, one that would have borne “factory fitted” on our manuals of creation.

We are heady wholeheartedly and ho ha.

I think we all had the “Ekwueme“ factor in each and every one. A factor that had us refusing to go against sworn words or perception or even norms. A factor that I had found intriguing over the years in my renewed efforts to add a softer touch to our “Africaness”

An “Africaness” that had masked innocent ignorance even among the would-be knowledgeable. It was always the same reaction “ I did not even know “ that I get each time I approached a subject from an angle not so native to us.

Our “Africaness” has made it increasingly hard for me to crusade for prostate screening among the brothers even with increasing evidence suggesting that we stand a higher risk in the scheme of things. The prostate screening classifications had put African-Americans at a higher risk, with number tilting further with increasing relative incidence.

1 in 4 black men will get prostate cancer in their lifetime. Black men are more likely to get prostate cancer than other men, who have a 1 in 8 chance of getting prostate cancer. You may also be more likely to get prostate cancer as a black man if you are aged 45 or over – and your risk increases as you get older

Most of us have close relatives who had been diagnosed with some form of prostate ailments and by this revelation, a majority of my age mates and friends were almost in the prime spot of benefiting from early routine screening.

The problem was our Africaness, my friends have all turned their backs because of the method of screening.

The rectal examination is simple and done in the little confines of a doctor’s office. The finger, adorned in gloves, with a scoop of lubricating and soothing gel is inserted into the anus while the prostate, sitting nicely between the bladder and the root of the penis is felt and caressed. Those good doctors look out for ridges and any other irregularities peculiar to issues of the prostate and hence make informed decisions whether to move on or not.

I had taken stock shortly after this little detailing and had rightly positioned for an expected reprisal but none had come. I rather observed the looks on my brother’s faces and it was all grim.

They had all cringed at the thoughts of having a finger up in their anus.

The look on their faces as I detailed the simple procedure was that of disdain. You could tell that some of them were invoking “Amadioha” and the god of thunder to visit my vile mouth. You could tell from the sound of their breaths, that they wished we were in the motherland where proper punishment deserving of my waywardness would be meted.

“Never” my blossom friend had said, “Over my dead body”, he had continued with his nose at an angle suggesting a clear indication that I had desecrated the high altar of his Africaness, a clear cut assault to his manhood.

“How can” he thundered further, “ I cannot allow my fellow man to put his fingers up in my anus”. My friend had become somewhat the abused, an animated being sounding off as being violated and used just as his rising temper-laced frustrations stared me right in the face.

I let him calm down a bit then interjected,” It is only a prostate check and it might be best to consider it a prostate massage. I had said this hoping to infuse calmer words and emotions, anything to replace a digital anal prodding.

Prostate massages have a sexual component you know, I had said to my buddies. A couple confided in me that they had tried some sort of massage years back when the husband was experiencing a mild form of erectile dysfunction. It was a pleasurable experience, they had confessed.

Andy and I were scared at first, she had said. It was such an unfathomable thought, putting what we saw online to practice. It was an uphill task at first but with some apple sauce and some nice jelly and a bit of sexual foreplay, she had reached out to the root of the penis to what felt like a pea.

“I had stroked it for a quick second or two”, just about the same time Andy was finishing off, She had said, and did drop down her voice a decibel and a notch as she tilted towards me to tell me “ It was quite explosive, more than he had ever in life ”.

My friends were all drawn to this gist. The apple sauce and the explosive outcome sure had gotten their attention.

Explosive? One of them had asked, rather with a better grin than before, “you mean apple sauce did that?

I had laughed so hard, this was a textbook maneuver. Prostate massage encourages a prostate emptying, enlarging semen expressed in the ejaculate. Apple sauce did not do that, it probably helped in getting Andy comfortable. Afterall, Icecreams and jellies had been eaten off human bodies since time immemorial.

With the renewed interest amongst my friends on this sexual infused rewards, I had armed myself with a needed spice to promote desensitization amongst them who might try this at home, if for nothing else, to get used to the fact that those acts or notions banished to the great beyond had seemingly interesting benefits.

“So does it work?”…. My other friend had asked. “are you serious ?”, “You mean I am going to “cum” more than I have ever done?”

I was beaming with smiles at this time as my brothers had transiently ditched their “Africaness” for aggrandizement that seemed pleasurable. They had forgotten the macho-stubbornness that blinded an earlier refusal for a needed screening.

They were all willing to try, with an innocent plea of reassurance from me that it worked.

I had reminded them that it did, but it was still with a finger, up into their anus.

And hell no rented the air one more time.

It was a bit too late, my brothers would do it. All we needed to do was sugarcoating the process, making it pleasurable.

And yes, my brothers would comply. Life was as pleasurable as the explosive outcome.

Early intervention will guarantee that we enjoy a lot more explosive outcomes, and a lot more apple sauce infused sweetness.

Prostate screening is a must for my brothers, no matter what.

It Matters Period

Uchenna Iwualla M.D